Stay Alive
by eukaryote
Summary: What happens to Albus after Ariana's funeral resembles what happened to Harry in Dumbledore's office after Sirius' death. Rated M for references to self-harm. This is how a life is saved and goes on.


**Hi everyone, I'm going to say this fanfic should have a TRIGGER WARNING on it if you are prone to self-harm. I'm also labeling it as rated M because of self-harm. However, this is a very hopeful story of how Albus Dumbledore overcomes his despair after Ariana's death and Grindelwald's flight. It contains mentions of slash, but Grindelwald's not in it. The end contains Harry and Dumbledore's interaction at the end of OotP. **

**I took from many things to write this fanfiction, all of which are listed at the bottom. BTW, I have nothing against homosexuality and I do not consider it "abnormal," but our young teenager Albus struggles with accepting it about himself.  
><strong>

**Please enjoy.**

_"You know, you can use music, you can use a show. I want you to know that whatever it is you brought into this place, whatever baggage, whatever thing you're working through... Never forget to start over... please never forget. You can start over if you need. Doesn't matter what you've done." _

_- Tyler Joseph, Twenty One Pilots_

* * *

><p>It was too much. Far too much. The freshly-turned eighteen-year-old Albus Dumbledore found himself shaking and crying uncontrollably in his remarkably empty house. His nose was broken and still bleeding slightly, but Albus didn't mend it. Aberforth was gone. He had packed his things and left. Fifteen years old and on his own, because he figured he was better off without Albus, which was almost surely true. Albus' life had quickly descended into an unbelievable nightmare in just two and a half months. He was not the same person he was two and a half months ago. He didn't know that person anymore.<p>

The guilt he felt was overwhelming. It was his fault. All of it. He should have been watching Ariana when he was ten years old, but he got distracted and forgot about her for half an hour. The Muggles had attacked her and did every horrible imaginable thing anyone could do to a six-year-old girl. His father went after them and was sent to Azkaban, where he died. Albus' fault. Ariana had killed their mother accidentally. Albus' fault – it's his fault his sister became half-insane. And Gellert killed Ariana. Albus' fault again.

He saw that Aberforth had left a dirty glass in the sink. Albus picked it up and threw it across the kitchen. It hit a wall and shattered.

He had no purpose. He had no one. His brother would never speak to him again. His friends from Hogwarts were probably very angry at him because he stopped replying to their letters. The person he had fallen in love with was a murderer. Albus was a talented, but definite, nobody who worked in a dead-end Muggle job. What was the point? He was so very alone. And he figured he was better off being alone, because everyone who came into contact with him was eventually hurt.

Barely conscious and indescribably alone, Albus foggily remembered grabbing a knife from the kitchen and tried to slice a vein in his left arm, but he was shaking and he couldn't see well through the tears. He would bleed to death with the pain of it all. Maybe God would give him a second chance. Before he lost consciousness due to blood loss, he thought of how he could have done his life differently. He didn't want to die. He wanted a second chance. He didn't want to die. He wanted a second chance. He wanted to wake up somebody else. He wanted to wake up and be ten years old all over again. Maybe God would even make him normal and take his homosexuality away too.

Unbeknownst to Albus, his nosy but well-intentioned neighbor, Bathilda Bagshot would enter the front door and find him there, unconscious and near death.

* * *

><p>When Albus slowly began to regain consciousness later that evening, he didn't want to open his eyes. He was aware of the faint sounds around him, so he knew he was alive. He prayed that his wish had come true, and that he was ten years old again, with living parents and a sane sister. He wanted this so badly, but he could tell this wasn't the case. The sounds he was hearing did not sound like his childhood bedroom.<p>

He heard someone come over to him. It sounded like she was writing something on a clipboard. Defeated, he opened his eyes to see he was in a hospital. A magical hospital. St. Mungo's. There was a young woman who did not look a day over thirty watching him carefully. She had dark brown hair and an oval face.

"So," the woman said, "looks like you're finally awake. Welcome to the land of the living, Albus."

Albus swallowed and looked around the room. He had his own private room. The door was shut and there was only one very small window at the top toward the ceiling. His mother had always told him that St. Mungo's was horrible, but it didn't seem like this was true. It was clean. Smelled nice. Warm, clean white sheets. Maybe his sister would have been better off here anyway. At least, she would be alive.

The woman put down her clipboard and sat down on a stool that was beside him.

"Do you remember what happened?" the woman asked gently.

Albus closed his eyes and nodded. He stretched out his left arm and examined it carefully. There was a line running up his arm that was barely visible by a long vein. It was whiter than the rest of his skin. He touched his nose and found it was no longer broken, but slightly crooked.

"We healed it the best we could," the woman explained, "but some time had passed since it was broken, so it did not heal perfectly. The line there on your arm is very faint and will probably fade away."

Albus said nothing and wished the woman would leave him alone.

"Would you like to tell me why you are suicidal?" she pressed.

Albus shook his head. "Why does it matter?" he said, his voice cold. "So what if I want to kill myself? Why's it matter to you?"

"Well," the woman said softly, "it does matter to me. I don't want to see an eighteen-year-old kill himself, even if I don't know him. I don't want to see anyone kill themselves. I want to help you. Why do you want to kill yourself?"

"I'm not suicidal," Albus said. "It was… an impulse. If I really was suicidal, I would've planned it out better. I'd be dead."

"Albus, people who are fine do not attempt suicide randomly. It is not an impulse. I believe you that you got caught up in the heat of your despair, but something put that despair there. Why did you do it?"

"I can't –" Albus gasped, emotion overtaking him again, "I can't live with myself. I can't live with the guilt. I'm disgusting…. Oh God, I feel so guilty," he said, his voice cracking. "It's my fault my family is dead. It's all my fault."

Hot tears poured down his face. Albus heard the Aberforth in his head snarl, "You fucking queer."

Albus took several deep breaths. "My father. My mother. My sister. All dead because of me. I can't stand the guilt. I can't live with it; I want out. Please, I just want it to end."

"Albus," the woman said after a long pause, "I hear you. You feel guilty. You blame yourself. You feel like you can't go on. But you must go on."

"_Why?_" Albus suddenly exploded, jumping out of his bed and going for the door, which was locked, and he didn't have his wand, but even if he did, he knew _Alohomora_ wouldn't work anyway. He was in lockdown and he knew it.

"Why must I go on living with myself?" he shouted on, unperturbed by the fact he could not get out. "I am despicable. It's _my_ life, why should anyone tell _me_ that _I_ can't decide to end it! Are you going to go live with the guilt for me?" he spat.

"You are here for a reason," the woman said quietly. "You do not know what that reason is and you might not know for five, ten, fifty, or even one hundred years from now, but you will see someday. There is a reason why you woke up. There is a reason why you are standing before me. You are here for a reason, even though you don't know what it is yet. God will take you home when He is ready. But as long as you are breathing, you have business to do. Every day you wake up, you have business to do. You're not done yet, Albus, and you are very young. Please have hope."

"Hope," Albus cried bitterly. "_Hope_? I am in too much pain to have hope. Pain is much stronger than hope; I cannot simply replace despair with hope."

"Hope is not a substitute for pain," the woman said. "Hope is in spite of pain."

"I don't deserve to live," Albus said, his voice shaking horribly. "I don't deserve one more breath. I don't want to hurt anymore."

The woman watched him sadly. "You deserve the world, dear. You are so important. Whatever reason you feel guilty, you must learn to forgive yourself. You will find out why you survived, some day. You deserve so much more than a knife to your arm, no matter what you've done or have not done."

"If you knew," Albus said, his vision blurry through tears, "if you knew what I have done, what I am responsible for, you wouldn't say I deserve the world."

For several minutes, Albus just looked at the floor. The woman did not move, as if she was waiting for him to say more, knowing that he would say more.

"Before I lost consciousness," Albus began, and he was pleased to hear his voice was much steadier now, "all I could think was that I didn't want to die. I wanted a second chance. I was hoping that I would wake up and be a child all over again, my family intact and whole. I'm responsible for terrible things. I don't get a fresh start. I'm dirty. Guilty. A horrible person…."

"It is true," the woman said, "that you cannot turn back time. What's done is done. However, you can start over, Albus. Don't ever forget that you can start over if you need to. Doesn't matter what you've done. There is no shame in starting over. Do it as many times as you need. You do get a second chance. You get many second chances. Every breath is a second chance. Every sunrise is a second chance. Pick yourself up and stay alive. You don't know what the dawn will bring you."

He closed his eyes and felt hot tears fall. When he had found his voice, he said, "I'm nobody."

He heard the woman sigh empathetically. "Albus, everybody is a nobody. Do you know how to become a somebody? You have to stay alive and die for something or someone. Not killing yourself."

"… If God is real, which I'm not sure if He is, there's no way He'd ever forgive me for what I've done. If God can't forgive me, how can I forgive myself?"

"All is already forgiven, Albus. You are forgiven. You were forgiven even while you were bleeding to death. The forgiveness was sitting right there on the floor next to you. Couldn't you see it? Start over. Start over ten, twenty, fifty times if you need, but start over."

Still blinded by pain, but feeling the stirrings of hope deep within his chest, Albus nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

He did not even know her name.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was discharged by St. Mungo's ten days after he had been admitted, and after several psychological evaluations. He was still heartbroken, but he did not believe he would try to kill himself again. Aberforth had still not returned home. Albus was fully aware that if anything happened to him, it would be his, Albus' fault, again. But in the meantime, there was nothing Albus could do. He found himself sitting at home in an empty house as he tried to figure out what to do with his life.<p>

One afternoon, a few days after he was discharged, he heard someone knock on the door. Albus sighed and assumed it would be Bathilda Bagshot. She had been periodically checking in on him to make sure he was still alive and feed him, even though he told her repeatedly not to.

But when Albus opened the door, he found himself facing Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones, his friends whom he had avoided all summer. Both of his friends had perplexed and concerned looks on their faces. Fallon had the same honey-colored straight hair, but she had cut it and it only came to her shoulders. Albus could see that she had aged – matured – since he last saw her on graduation day. Elphias still had his boyish face and looked much younger than he really was. It did not seem like the summer had changed Elphias at all.

"Oh," was all Albus said.

Fallon took in a breath. "Can we come in, please?"

Defeated, Albus shrugged and looked at their shoes rather than their faces. "I guess."

He turned and walked into his living room, his face becoming colored. He heard Elphias and Fallon behind him. The door shut. Albus sat down on the sofa and stared at the coffee table wordlessly.

Elphias sat down on a chair perpendicular to the sofa while Fallon chose to sit right beside Albus and was fixing him with a stare as if she was trying to solve something. Albus couldn't bring himself to look at either of them.

Both Fallon and Elphias had written to Albus repeatedly that summer. He almost always ignored them. At first, Albus described his daily life to Elphias, but then Albus stopped writing. It wasn't that he disliked them or didn't want to be their friend anymore – it was just he was so busy being obsessed with Gellert, with the Hallows, with the Resurrection Stone. He thought his future was with Gellert and the Hallows, not Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones. He didn't have the _time_ to write them back. He was deeply involved in his _vision_ and keeping up with Hogwarts friends was nowhere on his priority list. He had been too busy being a gullible, love-struck, idealistic fool.

"I heard about your sister, Albus," Elphias said finally after a very long and painful silence.

Albus looked up at him and saw that Elphias had a look of utmost concern on his face. He did not look angry, as Albus expected he would have been.

"I'm very sorry," Elphias went on. "I… I've been insensitive, Albus. All I did was talk about me in my letters. How much fun I was having traveling the world while you were here working and trying to take care of your brother and sick sister. I'm sorry about that."

Albus swallowed. He couldn't stand anymore of this. "No," he croaked, "I'm sorry. Both of you. I stopped answering your letters only a couple weeks into the summer – I didn't bother. I haven't been a good friend at all."

Fallon reached out and took his hand.

Albus sighed and looked at his lap. "I've – I've been trying to piece my life back together. It's in shambles. I've treated you both badly. I don't deserve your friendship."

"Don't be ridiculous," Fallon said softly. "You've lost so much in the past few months, Albus. It is okay not to be okay right now. You are our friend and you always will be."

Albus couldn't find any words, so he just sat in silence for a long while.

Fallon took in a breath. "Albus, do you want to talk about what happened? I think it would help you if you talked to someone who cares."

He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he shook his head. Fallon had not let go of his hand. He looked over to her.

"Tell me about _your_ summer," Albus said finally.

A smile twitched on Fallon's mouth. "If you wish," she said softly.

For almost ten minutes, Fallon talked about her summer in a ridiculously detailed fashion. Albus knew she was doing this because she thought hearing her voice would be therapeutic to Albus. And it was. Fallon might not have received the marks in school that Albus had, but he was convinced she was a genius in her own right. She _knew_ things instinctively. She always knew the right thing to say and do. It was remarkable how shrewd she was. Albus knew that Fallon would have seen through Gellert Grindelwald immediately. Why hadn't he?

There was a tapping noise. All three heads looked in the direction of the kitchen window. An owl was tapping on it. A letter was in his beak.

Completely perplexed, Albus' eyebrows came closer together. "No one else writes me," he muttered. "That owl must be lost."

Fallon jumped up, went to the window, and retrieved the letter.

"Who is it from, Fallon?" Albus asked.

She made her way back to the living room, opened it, and hastily looked at the signature as quickly as possible so she did not read what had been written. She looked up at Albus and said, mispronouncing the last name, "Who's Gellert Grindelwald?"

Albus jumped up so fast he saw stars. Completely forgetting his manners, he snatched the letter from her hand and then fell back down onto the couch wordlessly. It was Gellert's handwriting. Hardly breathing, he read.

_Albus, _

_I know you are hurting right now and I am largely responsible. For this, I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Believe me, when I woke up that fateful day, I was not planning on dueling your brother. I did not plan to kill Ariana – though I'm not entirely sure if it was me that cast the fatal curse. I know you're hurting and I know I fled. I am sorry. I know you may never forgive me. _

_But you should know, Albus, that I still love you. I admit I'm a bit horrified that you have not tried to contact me. I have waited every day for a letter from you, but none has come. I can't say I exactly blame you, but I do feel like you have forgotten everything we said and everything we did. Do you still have feelings for me? Evidence is pointing toward "no." And that breaks my heart, Albus. _

_Listen, if you ever can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will always still want your friendship, your partnership, your love. Should you ever want to join me in search of the Hallows, you are welcome to contact me. We could work together again. We could be together again. This offer stands no matter how many years pass by, Albus. You are always welcome to join me. _

_I hope that you can find peace in this. _

_Gellert Grindelwald_

Albus read the letter over again. He felt a different kind of emotion rise up within in – something other than despair and guilt that he had been feeling for two weeks. It took him a moment to realize what he was feeling was revulsion.

How could he not have seen it? How could he not have seen how evil Gellert Grindelwald was? Because he had hid it so well…

He remembered how Aberforth and Gellert met. Albus had not been in the room at the time, but Gellert had gleefully told him all about it later. Gellert had been sitting on the sofa as he waited for Albus to change out of his work clothes and Aberforth entered the room.

"Who the hell are you?" Aberforth had demanded in the same classy manners he always used.

Gellert had raised both his hands. "Look kid, I don't want to hurt you or anything, but I'm going to need you to empty your pockets and give me all your money."

And Aberforth had stuttered, "No, please, I don't have any money, I'm only fifteen – don't –"

Gellert had laughed and said, "Nah, I'm just fucking with you, kid. I'm your brother's friend – I'm just waiting for him to change."

How could someone so brilliant, so funny, so outgoing, so spontaneous, and so handsome be so insidiously evil deep underneath it all? Albus remembered the feeling of Gellert's lips against his, how soft they were, everything was perfect, so how could he have been kissing the devil?

Albus felt _sick_. He felt sick and he wished that he had never slept with Gellert. It made him want to throw up knowing that he had let someone so evil touch his skin – in that way and in any way. Distance from Gellert had made Albus realize just how stupid he had been. Gellert didn't actually have feelings for him – he was just _using_ him. Gellert knew Albus was powerful. Albus was a tool to him, nothing more. This letter – this _I still love you_ thing – was utter bullshit. It was meant to tug on his heartstrings and enslave him via his infatuation. Gellert was simply still hoping there was a chance Albus would come back to him and let himself be used again.

Albus suddenly became aware Elphias and Fallon were still in the room, looking at him. How many minutes had passed by while Albus simply stared at Gellert's stupid letter?

Albus cleared his throat and tried to summon the strength to set Gellert's letter on fire. He lost this battle, crumpled up the letter, and stuffed it into his pocket instead.

"Who's Gellert Grindelwald?" Elphias said, mispronouncing the name as Fallon had.

"No one," Albus managed. "Irrelevant."

Elphias raised his eyebrows. What else could Albus say? How could he tell his friends that he had a romantic relationship with a male expelled Durmstang student who then turned around and killed his disabled sister? They would be disgusted.

"So," Albus said struggling to divert the topic away from Gellert, "so, Fallon, you were saying you went to Paris?"

Fallon fixed him with a look that clearly said _you and I will talk when Elphias leaves._ It made Albus admire her even more. Then she went on explaining what she did in Paris.

An hour passed, largely, in silence. Albus knew Fallon was waiting for Elphias to leave so that she could talk to Albus in private and Albus knew Elphias didn't want to leave prematurely. They had talked about everything from the weather to graduation to future plans. Everything except Gellert Grindelwald and his mysterious letter.

Finally, Elphias sighed heavily and said he needed to go. Albus saw him to the door, thanking him and apologizing again, but Elphias wouldn't hear anything about it.

"We're friends," Elphias said. "You don't need to apologize. Just please keep in contact with me."

Albus walked back to the living room and sat down beside Fallon. He knew he was about to be interrogated. But he trusted Fallon – Fallon had a sort of motherly touch to her and she was a genius simply in a different way than he. She was street smart and kind-hearted. Plus, she was a girl. If he was going to tell anyone his secret about Gellert, it would be a girl, because another boy knowing would just be too much for Albus.

"Albus," she said, "when you read that letter from Gellert Grindelwald –"

"Grin-del-vald," Albus pronounced, "Is how you say his name. The w is like a v."

"Grin-del-vald," Fallon went on hastily, "it looked like you were going to throw up. You just _froze_ and your face went from pale to red to pale again. You stared at it in complete silence for five full minutes. Who is he? Is he our age? Did he go to Hogwarts?"

Albus sighed and closed his eyes. He was going to do it. He was going to do it. "Gellert is our age. Well, a year younger – he's seventeen. He attended Durmstang but was expelled. He's my neighbor's nephew. He was living with her for the past couple months, but he's gone now."

"So you became friends with him?" Fallon asked. She did not sound suspicious – yet.

"I did." Albus opened his eyes. "Gellert is brilliant, and when I say brilliant, I mean brilliant. Powerful. Talented. Forgive me for my lack of modesty, but he is like the Durmstang equivalent of me. We dueled several times – non-lethally, of course. He even beat me a couple times. Very powerful. He used to say the same thing about me – that he had no idea someone could be as brilliant and talented as himself." He almost smiled, but caught himself and hated himself. How could he fucking _smile_ when he thought of him?

Fallon looked like she was trying to take this all in. "Very powerful indeed, then," she muttered. "So what happened between you two? Why did you look so disgusted?"

Albus' breathing became shallow. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't say the words. Then he felt the gentle pressure of Gellert's letter against his thigh. He reached into his pocket and unfolded it. He smoothed it out for an unnecessarily long length of time. Now he was thankful he hadn't set it on fire. Wordlessly, Albus handed it over to Fallon. It cost him a great effort. As soon as she took it, he felt himself growing red. She would know. Oh God, she would know he was, as Aberforth eloquently called him, a _fucking queer,_ and worse, that he had delivered Ariana to her murderer.

Fallon read over the letter in silence. Albus couldn't bear to look at her face, so he stared at his hands instead.

When she had finally stopped reading, she looked up and said, "Albus, oh Albus…"

He closed his eyes. He heard Fallon move closer to him. She took his hand again and Albus felt himself losing the battle to not cry.

"Look at me," Fallon said.

But Albus would not.

"Listen, I don't care that you're homosexual, if that is why you won't look at me," she said patiently. "It does not matter to me. Don't you remember what I said in sixth year?"

"Yes, but I was joking at the time," Albus managed. "I didn't actually think I was – you know –"

"You might have been joking, but I was not," Fallon said calmly. "Andrea is a moron, so of course you did not feel anything when she cornered you and kissed you around Christmas. You just thought you didn't enjoy it because she's a dreadfully stupid and self-absorbed girl, but the fact you didn't feel anything bothered you a bit even then and you briefly wondered if girls were just not for you. I know you were a bit worried though. Sometimes it just takes meeting the right person and Gellert was the person who made you realize. I stand by what I said in sixth year. I don't care if you're homosexual. If you are, we can cry about men together. That is what I said. And you are. So what?"

Albus was finally able to look at her. "Gellert killed my sick sister."

"I know. It isn't your fault, Albus."

"But it is! Had I not been so much as friends with Gellert – if I had never brought him into this house –"

"Albus, you cannot go through life thinking that everyone you meet is going to kill your sister!" Fallon exclaimed. "It wouldn't be sane to do so!"

"I should have seen it in him," Albus muttered. "I should have known."

"Maybe there were warning signs," she said carefully, "and maybe there weren't. But it's irrelevant. I know you, Albus. You wouldn't become romantically involved with just anyone. You weren't looking for a cheap thrill. I think you were completely smitten. And guess what, Albus – love blinds people. It just does. You can only see the good. Actually, I think it is a good thing that you had feelings for him rather than just being friends, because your love explains why you _didn't_ pick up on any warning signs."

She was right. Albus knew she was right. Of course she was right. What she was saying made so much sense. He had loved Gellert and he had no idea why. He had fallen hard and fast. Deliriously so. And he still felt ashamed. So ashamed. But somehow, he felt better knowing that Fallon knew. It was as if she was carrying a tiny amount of the weight that he had been shouldering himself. A very small amount, but some weight, nonetheless….

They sat in silence for a long time and Albus knew she knew there didn't need to be words between them.

Finally, Fallon said, "What are you planning on doing now?"

Albus shook his head. "I have no idea. I am lost. I wish I could just numb it all."

"Well," Fallon said heavily, "that's the thing with loss and pain, Albus. It's better to feel it as soon as possible so that you can get it all out and start to heal. Numbing pain and postponing it only makes it worse when you finally do feel it."

She was right.

* * *

><p>But when Albus Dumbledore found himself responding to Gellert's final letter forty-five years later, and Albus found him when no other witch or wizard could, he finally saw why he survived after he tried to take his life at eighteen. Albus was the one in the perfect position to stop Grindelwald and stop him he did. After his recovering at St. Mungo's, Albus finally saw why he was alive and he was ready to settle down at Hogwarts and live a quiet rest of his life.<p>

But then he found a green-eyed orphan infant looking up at him in wonderment as Albus placed the strongest protective charm upon him that he could give. And then he was dropping off Harry at his aunt and uncle's house. Albus became a kind of guardian for perhaps the most important wizard boy in the world. Harry was the only one that had a chance of killing Lord Voldemort for good. Harry was important – so important – and Albus was in charge of protecting him. Albus saw again why he had survived.

And then nearly fifteen years later, that same green-eyed orphan was yelling – no, screaming – at him. It was chilling because this was all so familiar.

"I DON'T CARE!" Harry was screaming as he started picking up things and throwing them across the room. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE –"

Harry's words made Albus feel like someone had just grabbed his stomach and twisted it. He didn't want to hear Harry say those things and he doubted Harry fully understood the gravity of saying something like "I want out, I want it to end." But Albus did not show emotion because emotion would him would only feed Harry's.

"You do care," Albus said with a calmness that almost surprised himself. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

"I – DON'T!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes flashed and Albus knew Harry wanted to hurt him. Harry never lost control like this. He was no longer in control of himself and that made Albus very afraid, not for himself, but for Harry.

"Oh yes, you do," Albus said in that same calm voice. "You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" Harry continued. "YOU – STANDING THERE – YOU –" he faltered into silence before turning around and running for the door. He tried to open it.

Harry turned around and faced Albus. Albus could see he was shaking uncontrollably.

"Let me out," Harry demanded.

Let Harry out? Albus would die first. Albus knew that Harry was a better man – a stronger man – at fifteen than Albus had been at eighteen. He did not think that Harry was going to seriously hurt himself, but he wasn't taking any risks. Harry had lost control of himself and Albus wasn't going to let him blindly run away and possibly do something very awful to himself.

All this was running through Albus' head, but all he said to Harry was "No."

Harry gaped at him.

"Let me out," he said again.

Here was a teenager that Albus had come to love, even though he had tried not to. Harry was important to him; Albus didn't want him to hurt. But Harry was hurt and he was hurt because of Albus. Almost one hundred years later, here was another person that Albus loved who was hurt because of him.

"No."

"If you don't –" Harry began to stutter, "If you keep me in here – if you don't let me –"

"By all means, continue destroying my possessions," Albus said calmly. He didn't care if Harry demolished his entire office. If that is what it took to get the anger and hurt out of Harry, then a demolished office would be a small price to pay. "I daresay I have too many."

He walked over to the other side of his desk and sat down as he considered Harry, who was still standing with his hand on the doorknob. Albus did not like hearing that Harry "wanted out." He did not want Harry feeling like Sirius' death was his, Harry's, fault, because it wasn't. Of course, Harry had no idea just how familiar this scene was to Albus. The crying, the shaking, the yelling, the wanting out, the guilt he knew Harry was feeling, the breaking things, the being locked in a room… it was so similar, too similar. Harry had no idea that Albus had done and said the same thing as a teenager; he had no idea that Albus had lost control of himself and attempted to kill himself.

Albus wanted to fix it, but he had been pushing Harry away for almost an entire year. How could he tell Harry that he absolutely loved him and was only trying to help him? He had to tell Harry the truth, the whole truth, and Albus didn't want to. But he did.

By the end, Albus was crying silent tears and Harry looked up and saw it, but then looked back down at his knees. They sat in silence for a very long time.

"So," Harry said finally, "now what?"

"Whatever you want, Harry," Albus said softly. "We can talk more, you can leave and go to sleep, or you can just stay here. Whatever you want…. I love you very, very much, Harry, and whatever you feel would help you is what I will do."

Harry closed his eyes. Then he leaned forward and put his forehead down on Albus' desk. He started snoring softly and then Albus realized he had fallen asleep.

"Okay," Albus said hesitantly to Harry's sleeping form. He would have rather Harry fell asleep properly on a bed, but he wasn't about to wake him. Albus sighed and stood to his feet, feeling dizzy. He had not slept in over twenty-four hours and he wasn't going to get sleep any time soon. He knew the rest of the Order were all dying to speak to him. He had told them all not to interrupt his meeting with Harry unless Lord Voldemort had entered the castle.

Albus looked up at the portraits of former headmasters. "Watch him, please," Albus told them quietly. "If he leaves, follow him. Make sure he does not do anything regrettable."

They all nodded in agreement. Albus took one last view of Harry and swept from the room determined to do everything in his power to help him.

This was how a life turned out when it had nearly been ended a long time ago.

* * *

><p>Stuff I took from:<p>

1. "Hope is not a substitute for pain. Hope is in spite of pain." Jon Foreman of the band Switchfoot said this.

2. "... you can start over if you need to. Doesn't matter what you've done." Tyler Joseph of Twenty One Pilots said this.

3. "Every breath is a second chance." Jon Foreman of Switchfoot again.

4. _The forgiveness was sitting right there on the floor next to you_. The direct quote from Switchfoot is "Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell."

5. The scene where Gellert meets Albus is based off a post I saw on tumblr, where someone really did pretend he was robbing a fifteen-year-old, when really he was just waiting for his older brother.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you.


End file.
